Once the war is won
by EriksQueen
Summary: He'd hurt him beyond believe... so what if he loved him, he was meant to hate him and after everything that he had done, England just couldn't understand why Spain would forgive him.


Constructive criticism is always welcome!

Disclaimer: I do not own nor claim to own Axis Powers: Hetalia or any characters and places associated with Hidekazu Himaruya and Gentosha Comics. No profit is made from the writing for this fanfiction!

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Some things never really do leave you, no matter how many times you try to leave them behind. Everyone does things that they aren't proud of and everyone does thing that they think are a good idea; the only difference is that I never expected it chase me.

I was Captain Kirkland, a mighty pirate who concurred many lands and acquired many possessions... nobody ever questioned my authority and those who were against me hated me. That was the way it should have been… That is how I had learnt to deal with it.

Something had changed with that word forgive. It wasn't something I had heard before but it rang in my ears constantly. As I would look down at the bruised and bloody country; his wounds seeming more real, him seeming so much more alive.

_The man stood below me, his head bowed so that his scraggly fringe hid his glistening eyes. "Antonio…" I muttered, lifting his face up with the toe of my boot "…look at your master when he talks to you."__  
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Still he focused his eyes on the corner of the cabin and gritting his teeth as he barely spat out 'You will never be my master' in his native tongue. It made me angry, to think that one in such an unpleasant predicament would still be so disobedient! I leaned down to his level; gripping his jaw to that he had no choice but lock eyes with me. "I am whatever I tell you I am because I beat you España… And I will always beat you."__  
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He spat at me, spraying my face with droplets of blood from his cut up cheeks and lips. "I… I forgive you."__  
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"Oh really now?" I smirked sadly, dabbing the blood away from his lips with a silk handkerchief and at the same time, ripping the delicate cross from his neck, snapping the gold chain.__  
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He squirmed away, ripping his face to the right side and away from me. "You may beat me, but you'll never escape me Arthur... I'll always be here. I hope his haunts you…"__  
The dark cabin of a ship, made drearier by the claret and musky purple furnishings that should have made it much more lavish. I stared at the bottle of wine in many hand, waiting for it to slip from my grip in my drunken state.__  
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Only days previously, I had defeated the Armada and I had stood so strong… but now could even my enemies see me as strong? Notorious Captain Kirkland, feared pirate and ruler of the British Empire who apparently spent his days sat in a dark room, emptying bottle after bottle until looking in the mirror became somewhat bearable.__  
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The dark was driving me mad! No… his words were driving me mad! Even the worn curtains where a quiet torment… the fabric still stained with Spanish blood, serving as a reminder to what power can do; power, greed and pride.__  
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I raised the broken chain to my eyelevel, looking at the light shining of the religious icon. Why would he forgive me? I had taken everything…_

I broke my view of the lovely carpet, which I was becoming less and less fond of the longer I looked at it, to look out across the conference table for the first time the entire meeting, trying to distract my mind for those times without success.

It was July again… the worst month for reminiscing on old times although I was becoming more distracted by the French bastard next to me, staring at me in a daunting way. It didn't matter, for the first time ever… anything that took my mind off both the hyper-active Alfred in front of us and the somewhat tense Antonio who sat just across the table from Francis, next to his Lovino.

There was so much to say… too much to say.

My chest felt like it was filling with thick fluid, like it had in my pirate years, sat alone in my cabin covered in Spanish blood and when I had stood on the battlefield with my beloved Alfred, covered in the American's. My eyes did too, thinking about it. I suddenly became more aware of Francis staring at me… not glancing, or looking – staring.

I looked into my tea-cup, desperate to get my thoughts back under my own control before I lost control when the meeting finally ended. Antonio stood with his back to us out in the gardens, Lovino and Roderich with him as I approached.

The words I had planned to say had already started to dissolve as I stepped closer, thrown off guard by Roderich who looked up with slightly watery eyes. I couldn't feel any concern for the other man's well-being, only seeing him being chased after by Antonio as he walked always filled me with something… though what I didn't know.

"Antonio… you were right. It's haunting me, all of it." I muttered under my breath, vaguely aware of someone standing behind me as I spun around to Francis' waiting hand. I wanted… no, I needed a drink. At the end of the day, it always ended with alcohol.

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Thanks for reading! x


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